


The Social Experiment

by Rockinlibrarian



Series: The Loudermilk Chronicles [5]
Category: Legion (TV)
Genre: Awkward Dates, Backstory, Bullying, Embarrassment, Family, Gray-Asexuality, High School, Introversion, Other, School Dances, Teenage Drama, awkward social posturing and mating rituals, off-screen harassment, that's Cary's line I'm just stealing it because it does sum up high school dances properly, there are a lot of tags that deal with this hell of an age
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:27:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22520995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rockinlibrarian/pseuds/Rockinlibrarian
Summary: In which Kerry Loudermilk attempts to forcefully Get her reclusive teenaged brother A Life. This does not go according to plan. Being a teenager is awkward enough-- doubly so for a double-person mutant...
Series: The Loudermilk Chronicles [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1469729
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	The Social Experiment

**Author's Note:**

> This one's for all the gray-ace kids out there who never got that whole dating business. I'm a little farther up the spectrum, but writing this was still oddly cathartic.

Kerry secretly loved arguing with Mama. For one thing, arguing was just another kind of fighting, and fighting was what Kerry did best. For another thing, every direct argument was further proof that Mama truly did believe Kerry existed, after denying it for years. Unfortunately for Kerry’s argument this morning, Mama was still one of the only people in the world who did.

“What kind of paperwork would I have to sign to let you on the wrestling team?” Mama said. “Paperwork that doesn’t exist, since _you_ don’t legally exist?”

“Don’t look at ME,” said Kerry’s brother, from amid the pile of screws and wires and random hunks of metal and plastic scattered over the kitchen table. Which wasn’t entirely fair, since Kerry hadn’t been looking at him. She’d just been pointing at him. Legally, she _was_ him, because she’d technically _been_ just a part of him up until seven years ago.

“No, you can’t pretend to be Cary to join the team, either,” Mama said. “We can pull that off at the Y in the city where nobody knows us, but at school everyone already knows Cary, and it’s obvious you aren’t him.”

Cary grunted something slightly annoyed, and Kerry translated, “Yeah, he’s the nerd who skipped two grades, caused two separate math teachers to quit out of despair when they couldn’t keep up, and keeps shorting out the electricity during shop class.”

“Also they know I’d never go out for wrestling,” Cary mumbled. Sparks flew as he plugged whatever he’d been working on into the wall socket.

Mama’s attention shifted from her daughter to her son. “Cary, what are you doing to the toaster?”

He shrugged. “Now it picks up radio waves from Alpha Centauri.”

“He gets to communicate with Alpha Centauri and I’m not even allowed to join the wrestling team?!”

“I’m not _communicating_ with anyone,” Cary scoffed. “They’re naturally-occurring radio waves, not Saturday Night Dance Party.”

“Hmm.” Mama sat across from Cary at the table and peered at him thoughtfully. “Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe you _should_ be communicating more.”

Cary looked up from the former toaster and frowned. “What?”

“Well, lately you’ve been all wrapped up inside yourself with your science experiments.” Mama fiddled with a spare antenna, tapping it on the table in front of him. “You barely speak to anyone at all. I know, you’re fifteen, that’s rough on anybody, but it’s not healthy to be so closed off. Particularly when your sister depends on you for her very existence, and she’s getting so _bored_.”

Kerry’s jaw dropped. Mama _understood_. Just a few years ago Mama thought she was a delusion, and now she didn’t just _believe_ in her, she _knew what she was going through_.

“I’m not stopping her from doing her own thing!” Then he turned to Kerry and shook a screwdriver at her. “But I’m not joining the wrestling team for you, either.”

“That’s a moot point, anyway, she’s not going out for wrestling even if you did.” At Kerry’s protest, she countered, “You’d be competing with full-grown high schoolers, Kerry, and you have the body of a 10-year-old, it wouldn’t be right.”

“She could still take them.” Cary didn’t look up from the dials he was adjusting. “Not that I’m changing my mind on the issue, I just know she could.”

“Well, thanks, I guess you haven’t become _completely_ boring,” Kerry retorted.

“But you still need to get _out_ more, Cary. For your own sake as well as Kerry’s. It doesn’t have to be a sport. Just something to get you out of the house and talking with other people your age. You’ll both be happier in the long run. Think about it today.”

Kerry wasn’t sure _Cary_ was thinking about it, but _she_ definitely was. Usually she spent the school day either passively zoning out or on the alert for signs of trouble, depending on the setting. Classes, lectures, assignments were all Cary’s specialty, and they bored her, so she didn’t usually pay attention. But between classes, or in the lunchroom, or anywhere else where students were left to their own devices, _Cary_ was the one who stopped paying attention, and Kerry had to use his senses _for_ him or he’d be totally lost.

Using his ears, and nose (sometimes trouble had a smell), and her own intuition (which worked just as well inside him as out), was easy. Those senses were passive—Cary didn’t have to direct them for Kerry to use them. And when it came to keeping him out of trouble, that was all she needed. His _eyes_ , annoyingly, tended to stare at his feet or off into space or lock themselves into a book of what was usually equations and therefore extremely boring on _top_ of not actually taking in his surroundings.

But she needed eyes today. _Cary, the notice board,_ she hissed at him as she caught sight of it out of the corner of his eye, just outside the cafeteria.

He looked directly at it, but too briefly for her to see much. “What about it?”

 _LOOK at it. It’s got ideas of things we can do to socialize you. That’s where I saw the paper about the wrestling team_. He sighed and continued walking to the cafeteria. _Cary!_ She groaned and slipped out behind him to study the bulletin board herself.

Cary took two more steps before realizing what she’d done. “What are you doing? You can’t be out here!”

“You wouldn’t stop and look!” Most of the high schoolers streaming past were too preoccupied to even glance their way, and those who did look at her merely raised their eyebrows and shrugged. So Kerry continued to peruse the board undeterred. “Look, you could do cross country. Remember when we used to go running every day?”

“Only because you made me. Now would you please—”

“Okay, non-sport. You could always try chess club again.”

“No one will play me anymore. Come on now, get—”

“Student Council?” At this they both looked at each other and, after a pause, burst out laughing. “No, no—oh, of COURSE!” Kerry stretched up to slap a rather colorful flier high on the board. “The Homecoming Dance is in two weeks!”

“No,” Cary said, quickly and incredulously.

Kerry was genuinely confused. “But you love dancing.” It had always been one of the few ways she could get him to do _anything_ physical.

“Well not at—there’s a huge difference between ‘dancing’ and a—a ‘ _dance_ ’!” He shuddered. “People don’t really _dance_ at a dance. They… _mingle_ , and, and make…small talk, and—”

“Socialize?” Kerry crossed her arms. “Isn’t that what we’re trying to do, here?”

“Yes, theoretically, but….”

“And it’s only one night, not like a team that you keep having to show up for. One night and it’s over with, and it’ll make Mama happy, and we’ll have _one Saturday night where we’re not stuck at home doing nothing._ ”

“Not _nothing_ , we—look, I’m going to lunch; if you want to get caught here and sent to the elementary school, that’s your problem.” He turned on a heel and started to march off. She sprinted after, putting in just enough extra force to knock him a little off-balance as she merged. Just enough to express herself.

She didn’t say any more, but she stewed on it for the rest of the day.

Before Cary got boring, they used to launch model rockets out in the fields behind town. He’d calculate the wind speed and the thrust and the launch angles, she’d chase after and retrieve the rockets. Sometimes he’d take too long with the calculating and she’d launch the rocket before he was ready, so he started holding onto the launch trigger, but she’d slip through him and grab—and launch—the trigger on the way out, which was particularly hilarious. They’d worked out a game where he’d try to pinpoint the exact landing spot and she’d wait there, which was fun until he got too good at it and she didn’t get to run anymore. She’d considered subtly nudging the launchpad crooked, but he’d be so upset if his math suddenly didn’t work for no reason, and that felt like a push a little too far. So she’d just start at the launch site and race the rocket to the calculated landing point. It was the perfect way to spend an afternoon for both of them.

She pulled their best rocket down from its shelf on Saturday afternoon. “Wanna see how high we can make this bad boy go?”

“Nah, I’m done with aeronautics for the time being.” He didn’t look up from the spread of books and papers across his desk, continuing to write on them as he spoke. “I want to focus on electromagnetic radiation right now.”

“Then, maybe we can try to put a satellite into orbit!”

“Not with those toy engines, we can’t,” he muttered.

She sulked. “Mama’s right. You need to get a life.”

“I have a perfectly satisfying life, even if it’s not to your taste.” He finally looked up from his notes and directly at her. “Can’t you just…go somewhere without me, for once?”

“NO.”

“Then you’ll have to wait. I’m working out a tricky problem and don’t need any interruptions.”

Kerry narrowed her eyes. “Let’s make a deal. I’ll shut up for the rest of the day if you promise to ask Hannah Bailey to the Homecoming Dance on Monday.”

There was a pause before Cary stuttered out, “Wait, w-what?”

“I’ll shut up if you ask Hannah Bailey to the dance!” She bounced a little. “And if you go back on it, I’ll annoy you even more until you do!”

“W-w-why? Why do you want to _go_ to this dance so much, let alone…ask _Hannah_ to, to it.”

“Because it’s perfect for us! Couples tickets cost less, but since you can’t actually take _me_ outright, you might as well ask Hannah since you have a crush on her.”

Cary turned white then red in less than a second. “W-what makes you think I- I have a—”

“Your heartbeat speeds up whenever she looks at you.” She smirked. “We share a body. You can’t hide this stuff from me.”

He looked thoughtful, as if considering it for the first time. “Well she does have a, an unusually kind smile. It’s always… _nice_ to see. And she writes the loveliest essays. When she reads them aloud, it’s so melodious, I could just listen to her speak for hours….” He stared off into space for a moment, then turned and slammed his books shut. “But you might as well go ahead and keep talking, because I’m not asking her to the Homecoming Dance.”

“Oh why not?!”

“Because even Hannah Bailey’s smile can’t make up for an evening of…. awkward social posturing and… m-mating rituals! I don’t know what you’re expecting this dance to be, but I can already assure you it is not my idea of a good time.”

“Well what is?”

“S-staying home!”

“ _Besides_ that, I mean. If you could take Hannah— or anybody— anywhere for a date, where would you go and what would you do?” She curled up on the bed with her chin on her knees, staring at him expectantly. It was hard to believe there could be _anything_ about her brother that she didn’t know, but this was something she’d never considered.

“Well.” He got that faraway look again, ruminating. Finally he took a deep breath and said slowly, “You know that observatory tower up the hill? We’d head up there, use the telescope for a bit, then just lie in the grass and watch the stars, talking about the universe.”

“And kissing?” Kerry asked hopefully.

He blushed again, though more gently than when she’d first mentioned Hannah to him. “Well, yeah, a bit of that, too, I suppose.”

Kerry broke into a grin. Suddenly she fervently hoped for nothing more or less than that for Cary. “You just wait. Hannah is going to be so smitten by you after you take her to the Homecoming Dance, she’s gonna go to the observatory with you every weekend after.”

“How did— how did you manage to get back to this theory that I’m taking her to the Homecoming Dance?”

“Everybody has to start somewhere.”

Ever since word had gotten around that anyone who messed with Cary Loudermilk would immediately and most thoroughly get their butt handed to them by a psychopathic little girl, he hadn’t had to deal with much outright _bullying_ (except for the occasional new kid who would find out the hard way that the warnings weren’t a joke, at which point the entire school would gleefully spread the news that a little girl kicked their butt, as collective punishment for ignoring the warnings in the first place). But that didn’t mean people were rushing forward to be his _friend_ , either. The other AP college-bound kids accepted him well enough, but only in a periphery sort of way: they all seemed to have close friendships among themselves and inside jokes he must have missed. He was _allowed_ to be with them, though, which was more than could be said for any other group in the school. The band and drama kids were too busy being band and drama kids to pay him any mind, the ranchers thought he was from another planet, the jocks and toughs—well, as if that was ever a consideration. And all the rest of the kids tended to split themselves into Native or white, and since he was a Native kid who looked like a white kid, he couldn’t even fit in _there_ properly.

Hannah Bailey was one of the college-prep kids who _did_ have friends. They sat at one end of the table in the cafeteria, chatting and laughing, and Cary sat at the other end, reading. _Ask her now, she’s right here. You could probably just yell if you don’t want to get up._

Cary harumphed. “I’m not yelling that across the table,” he muttered, holding the book in front of his face.

 _Then get up_.

“No. You didn’t leave me alone on Saturday, anyway, so I don’t owe you.” Kerry could tell he was really annoyed because he couldn’t help chiding her out loud, even if that risked drawing stares.

_You TOLD me not to leave you alone ‘cause you weren’t going to do it, so it wasn’t a fair deal. I’m asking you fresh so you can do it now anyway._

“Still no.”

 _Then you leave me no choice._ Not particularly caring who saw her (though she was pretty good at making it look natural, as if she had just happened to stand up from the bench beside him), she slid out and circled to the other end of the table, ignoring the sudden choking noises coming from Cary’s direction. “Hey, Hannah, will you go to the Homecoming Dance with Cary Loudermilk?” she announced without preamble when she got there.

The chatter stopped for a second, to be replaced shortly thereafter by stunned giggling. Hannah looked incredulously from Kerry and down the table to Cary, who had buried his head in his arms, though the back of his neck was still exposed and clearly a shade of brick. “You’re Cary’s…cousin, right?”

“Sure,” Kerry said. That was at least the explanation that had taken hold among the kids in town whenever she showed up. No one would have believed the truth anyway.

“Did he _ask_ you to ask me?” Hannah side-eyed Cary again, who still hadn’t moved.

“Well… he wants to _know_ ,” Kerry replied carefully, which made Hannah laugh then quickly stifle it. She was _sharp_ , this Hannah Bailey. No wonder Cary liked her.

“Well in that case,” Hannah raised her voice enough to be heard clearly all down the table, “I’d be happy to go to Homecoming with Cary if _he_ asked me _himself_.”

There was a fresh outbreak of giggling, stretching farther down the table (and to the ones on either side) than before, but that was enough for Kerry. She returned to her brother’s end of the table, but Hannah (and her friends) kept watching them, so she squeezed onto the bench beside him instead.

“I am never moving from this spot,” he muttered without raising his head. “I inevitably will die here and succumb to rigor mortis and then no one else will be able to move me, either.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Kerry hissed at him. “She totally wants to go with you. You just have to ask.”

“Which is _exactly_ where we were before, but worse, because now everyone _else_ is waiting for me to do it, too.”

“So do it. Everyone’s counting on you.”

Which is why Cary didn’t budge until the cafeteria emptied, and he got his first tardy note ever in the next class.

But Hannah Bailey’s unusually kind smile bespoke a genuinely kind person, and she did her best to make it easier on him. She seemed to position herself near him, watching him with an open, friendly face, whenever she got the chance to give him an opening. Or he just noticed her presence more than usual on account of feeling utterly mortified. He couldn’t meet her eyes at all, let alone ask her anything, for the rest of the day.

Kerry did not approve. _She wanted to talk to you and you hurt her feelings_ , she scolded.

“Way to make me feel even worse. Do…do you think she’ll forgive me?”

_That’s something ELSE you’ll have to ask her, isn’t it?_

That should have made it harder. But while embarrassment required withdrawal, _guilt_ required _fixing_ things. So when Hannah gave him a tentative “Hi, Cary,” at the lockers next morning, this time he talked a little too easily.

“Hi, Hannah, look, I just wanted to say I’m sorry about Kerry yesterday, she gets, a, a little overenthusiastic sometimes….” _Only to make up for your complete LACK of enthusiasm. And how’s this my fault, now? You’re the one who wouldn’t TALK to her_.

“Kerry’s the little girl who…” she spun her fingers around each other, as if untangling something intangible. “Your cousin…she has the same name as you?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Was she telling the truth about… you…wanting to ask…?”

He blushed. “Well, I would—I wouldn’t _mind_ , actually.”

Hannah giggled slightly. “So this…little Kerry always seems to come dashing to your rescue whenever she thinks you might need help with something?”

 _MIGHT need help? You ALWAYS need help._ “Basically, yeah.”

“Why’s she so obsessed with you, anyway?”

 _Tell her it’s because you’re just that infatuating_.

“NO I—I mean, I guess it’s just because we were…inseparable when we were young, and …n-now she’s…” Seven years with this pervasive secret and he still hadn’t managed to rehearse a plausible explanation. Lies, even necessary ones, just never sat right with him. He winced and lowered his voice. “Would you believe she’s really my conjoined twin who lives inside me?” _Oh my god you are hopeless_.

Hannah laughed. “That’s the best story you could come up with?”

“I don’t—I really don’t know how to explain Kerry,” he admitted, and that was perfectly honest. Which relaxed him a bit, and the fact that Hannah was still smiling relaxed him even more. “Re-regardless, w- _would_ you still be interested in, in the Homecoming Dance? Or even… the observatory tower, maybe. Or somewhere else? Anywhere you would like? With me, I mean.”

“How about we start with the dance and see how that goes?”

“Okay. I’d…like that.” He stood, somewhat helplessly, and watched her head into the classroom. She smiled back at him from the doorway.

 _Nailed it._ “What does that even mean?” _It means you nailed it._ “I think that’s an anachronism.” _What does THAT even mean?_ “I don’t know, we live in a strange universe.” He—dorky, stuttering, floundering Cary Loudermilk—had just successfully asked someone out. Strange universe indeed. But kind of nice.

Mama was more excited than anyone else that Saturday, to the point that even Kerry was a little embarrassed, and she wasn’t even the one directly bearing it. “You look so _tall_ and grown _up_! And so _snazzy_ in a suit! It really _suits_ you! Hah!”

Cary rolled his eyes, but admitted, “I kind of like it myself, to be honest.”

Kerry stepped out next to Mama to pass her own judgment. “You look like the Absent-Minded Professor.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Cary retorted.

Mama blinked at Kerry. “And that’s a lovely dress. Where did you—?”

Truth was Kerry had no idea where she got her clothes, either, and this was the first she’d even noticed the lovely dress. She glanced down and stretched out her arms. It looked perfectly stylish yet appropriate for a pre-teen going to a semi-formal dance, and that was okay. More importantly, it was still loose enough around the shoulders for a full range of arm motion, and the knee-length poofy skirt was just begging to be kicked out. POOF! Man, why didn’t more girls start fights dressed like this? They’d look awesome.

“Never mind, stand over by Cary, I want _both_ your pictures, just for our own records.” Kerry spun into position, to test the full extent of the poofiness. She settled into an open fighting stance. “No, Kerry, try to be just a little more lady-like, just for the camera.” The first picture therefore came back with Kerry scowling and Cary shifting awkwardly trying to figure out how to be lady-like. Luckily Mama took three more pictures, one of which did manage to catch both of them smiling, or something close to it at least.

Then they all trooped over to the Baileys’, because Mama _had_ to take pictures of Cary and Hannah together and then she _promised_ to leave them alone. Kerry invented a sort of kicking spinning leaping walk, watching the skirt poof dramatically with each step, until Cary snapped at her to get in before someone saw. “Oh, let her have her fun,” Mama told him, which just went to show how annoying Cary was being, since usually _Mama_ was the paranoid one. “You’re doing this for her as much as for you.”

“I am doing this _entirely_ for her,” Cary corrected.

Kerry had already bounced back in, anyway, only to find Cary’s heart racing and temperature slightly elevated. _You’re scared. Why are you scared? You’ve got me._

“It’s a different _kind_ of scared. Hush, we’re almost there.”

They stood outside of the Baileys’ front door, Cary waiting with his hands in his pockets, until Mama hissed at him and nodded toward the doorbell. “This is _your_ date. Pretend I’m not here.”

So Cary rang the doorbell and said stiffly, “Good evening, Mrs. Bailey, is Hannah home?”

Mrs. Bailey smiled, shouted for Hannah, and stepped out onto the porch to wave to Mama, anyway. “Hello there, Irma!”

“Hi, Peggy! I _told_ th-him I just want to take a picture and then I’ll go!”

“Oh, good idea! Can you believe we’re sending our own babies off to Homecoming?” They spoke in the overly-cheerful voices of grownups who had known each other a long time but only shallowly, and maybe warily. It made Kerry cringe.

Hannah appeared in the hallway behind the screen door. Her dress wasn’t nearly as poofy as Kerry’s. _How does she expect to give anybody a decent kick in THAT skirt?_

“I am fairly positive that’s not a priority for her,” Cary muttered, his reply safely hidden beneath the exaggerated-friendly mom-talk.

_Well THAT’S dumb._

“Why would she need to? We’ve got you.”

“I’m sorry, were you saying something?” Hannah said as she closed the door behind her.

“Uh, no. No. Hi. I think my mother wants to take our picture.” _You’re supposed to tell her that she looks nice_. “Because you look nice.”

They stood on the Baileys’ stoop and smiled politely while Mama and Mrs. Bailey took turns snapping pictures and cooing over the grown-upness of their babies, and stayed standing politely until the mothers said, “Why are you still standing here? Shoo! Shoo! On your way!”

Cary put his hands back in his pockets. Kerry wanted to physically shove him to get him to stop cowering. _Offer her your arm!_

Cary kinked his elbow toward Hannah and said, “W-would you, would you like my arm I don’t think I said that right.” The last part was directed at Kerry, but Hannah had already taken his arm by then and just laughed.

“I think I know what you meant. Unless you _are_ offering your limbs for dinner, and you do look tasty.”

Cary laughed nervously and Kerry said, _Are you sure she’s joking?_ So Cary said, “You are joking, I assume?” and Hannah laughed more.

Kerry felt his breathing relax and his heart stop pounding, and even though she still thought he wasn’t taking the possibility of cannibalism seriously enough, she couldn’t help relaxing, too. It did feel so awfully grown up to be walking so tall, a beautiful girl on their arm. She had a sudden impression of being in a Norman Rockwell illustration, and she slipped backwards to check out the effect from behind.

Hannah didn’t notice, and Cary seemed too distracted to notice. They kept walking, and Kerry admired it. From the outside he looked so perfect, tall and gawky, blond hair slicked down in an unnatural attempt at respectability. Hannah’s dark curly hair did its best to escape from an apparently likewise-unnatural updo, and she walked in that regretfully unpoofy dress as if afraid it might either fall off or crush her. They had clearly strolled right off the cover of the _Saturday Evening Post_ , and Kerry felt an echo of Mama’s ridiculous cooing bubble up in her own chest. “Awwww, you two are so _disgusting!_ ” she gushed aloud.

Hannah shrieked and jumped to look back at her. Cary turned red. “KERRY GET BACK I- home!”

She gave him her most offended glare. “I’m going to the dance, too.”

“Isn’t it just for high school kids?” Hannah peered at Cary as if gauging his reaction.

“Yes,” Kerry said. Hannah nodded, Cary sighed, and they both continued walking. Kerry continued to follow. After a few steps Hannah looked back and frowned. So Kerry added, “I just want to be sure you’re gonna take good care of him. He’s very shy, you know. You have to be patient, let him get all his words out when he tries to talk.”

Cary moaned, but Hannah’s frown melted into a giggle. “Aw, she’s just worried about you. He’ll be fine, Kerry-the-younger—”

“Girl-Kerry,” Kerry corrected.

“Girl-Kerry,” Hannah agreed. “I’m sure you can let your cousin have one evening to himself.”

“That’s the thing, he’s not _supposed_ to keep to himself tonight, he’s supposed to be _sociable_.”

“Well I’ll never get the chance if you keep interrupting my conversations,” Cary muttered.

“One more thing and I’ll shut up. Look. Watch this skirt.” She leapt as high as she could, kicked one leg out and spun in midair, landing gracefully in front of the other two. The dress poofed agreeably. “Full. Range. Of motion.”

Cary tugged Hannah past her and said, “Yeah, yeah, no one’s impressed.”

“I am a bit.” Hannah nodded at Kerry as they passed.

Kerry let them, smirking a little at the success of her landing, then slipped silently back behind them to enter the gym with Cary.

Cary looked helplessly over the sea of rowdy, cliquish, indelicate adolescents. He took in the refreshment tables to either side, the band tuning up on a makeshift platform at the far end, and the raw chaos in the middle. “Well, here we… here we _are_.”

_You just find a place for you and your paramour, I’ll scan for ruffians_.

“That’s going a bit too far—” he burst out in response. “Oh.”

“You don’t have to yell at yourself,” Hannah told him wryly. “We _are_ here.”

“I-I’m sorry, Kerry’s put me on edge.”

“I don’t even see her around anymore. So just forget about her for awhile and have fun, okay?”

Cary frowned. Fun? How? There was nothing at all fun about this situation.

“Unless you _are_ talking about yourself,” Hannah added. “In that case, you really should treat yourself nicer.”

 _Every part of yourself, including the sister-part._ Cary stopped himself from rolling his eyes.

“Oh, there’s Janie and Cynthia, let’s go say hello.”

Cary smiled politely as the girls chattered, and considered evaporating. Then the band began a gently swinging number, and he remembered the only thing he liked about dances.

“Do you want to, to dance with me?”

Hannah’s friends wiggled their eyebrows at her and grinned. Hannah said, “…sure!”

She moved to put her hands on his shoulders as all the other girls in the room were doing, but before he noticed this he’d already taken her left hand in his right, and settled his left on her waist. “Wait, you’re… _dancing_ -dancing!” she said as he stepped off. She tripped a bit, but quickly caught up.

Apparently the majority of high schoolers did not actually know how to dance. Once again, Cary was an oddity. But he didn’t mind. For the first time all night, he was having fun. “Of course! Don’t, don’t worry, just find the beat and follow along with me.” They couldn’t travel much, since no one else on the dance floor seemed to be, but he could weave them in and out of the spaces just enough to keep it interesting. It was like a puzzle you needed your whole body to solve. “Once you get used to the rhythm we can toss in a flourish or two, like so.” He raised their leading arms and guided her into a spin. She laughed.

“I had no idea you had this in you, Cary Loudermilk,” she said. “How’d you learn to dance like this?”

“We, uh, used to watch a lot of Fred-and-Ginger on television. Kerry can pick up the steps just by watching, and then she’d teach me, and we’d just… practice a lot after.”

Hannah paused for a moment, then stumbled a little. Cary shifted his weight to help her back into the rhythm, trying to ignore the incredulous look she was giving him. “Your little cousin taught you to dance like Fred Astaire.” _If only_ , Kerry snorted.

“Sister, actually.” He muttered this almost inaudibly.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You don’t think it’s kind of creepy, the way she follows you around, fighting your battles for you, teaching you to slow dance? You don’t have some kind of… _kissing cousins_ thing going on, do you?”

_EW!_

“N-n-no! Nothing like that!” Cary stumbled, and let go of Hannah so that he could use his hands to gesticulate. “I told you, we’re…conjoined twins. Sort of. I-I-I mean, obviously we don’t, um, share an _arm_ or anything like… we actually share a whole body. Except when we, when we don’t.”

Hannah furrowed her entire face in a mix of amused disgust. “You really need to work on that story.”

“There’s no way that story can get any better.” Kerry patted her brother’s arm condescendingly. “If you’re going to keep _talking_ about me, _I’m_ going to see what’s happening on the _other_ side of the gym.” She turned with an exaggerated flounce, most likely to make her skirt poof out again.

Hannah gaped self-consciously after her. “How long was she standing there listening to us?”

Cary tried to think of a good excuse and gave up. “The whole time.”

“See, that’s what I mean! It’s creepy!”

“Could we, maybe, talk about something else?”

“Sure.” She patted his arm in much the same way Kerry had done. “Let’s get drinks while you tell me something about yourself that has nothing to do with …Girl-Kerry.”

He paused, then followed her to the nearest refreshment table in a daze. How could _anything_ about himself not have to do with Kerry? “Well, I—I’m a genetic anomaly.” Except that had to do with Kerry, too.

Hannah had to set down the punch ladle she’d just lifted, to catch a spit-laugh in the back of her hand. “I mean what do you _like_ , what do you do? We all know you like science. I did _not_ know you could dance. So what other unique hobbies have you been hiding?”

“Well, I—” He froze. There were lots of things, weren’t there? He’d always been interested in _everything_. But when _was_ the last time he’d done something that wasn’t a science experiment or had nothing to do with Kerry? “I like—classical music.” There. Nothing to do with Kerry. She preferred that rock-and-roll. “I can play the piano and the oboe. I was always into languages,” he remembered suddenly. “I’ve known English and Lakota since birth, but I mastered French soon after, and I was working on Mandarin, Igbo, and Norwegian for awhile, though lately,” he shrugged, “I guess I _have_ been concentrating on Ancient Greek and Latin.” Maybe Mama was right. Maybe he _didn’t_ communicate anymore. Who spoke Latin? “Oh, and sleight of hand! That’s not a language. But see?” He grabbed a napkin from the table and balled it in his fist. “Where did the napkin go? Oh wait, I see something behind your ear. Could it be?” He reached behind her head with a flick of the wrist, then presented her with… a spoon. “Oh, I’m sorry, it wasn’t the napkin after all.” Hannah burst out laughing, and Cary couldn’t keep a straight face either. He used to do things like that all the time, just to make Kerry laugh. He’d missed it.

“I like you, Cary. You should speak up more.” Something about the look she was giving him made him uncomfortable.

“Want to, want to dance again? And you can tell me something about _your_ self. I know you…have a poetic disposition.”

“Why thank you. I think. That was a compliment, wasn’t it?” She took his hands, and they settled into the rhythm of the music.

“Yes, when combined with your sensible mind. You put them together and make beauty out of facts, without sacrificing any truth.”

“Oh! That… that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.” She smiled, and he melted on the spot. Then she pulled his hand up to her face and rested her cheek on it, and he had to stop himself from reflexively jerking away. He was going to have a panic attack. He was pretty sure he could already hear the very fabric of the universe crumpling down around him.

But it was merely shouting and gasping and screeching of chairs, and he was shaken completely out of his irrational panic and into a rational one when someone shouted, “CHOWDER-MILK, WOULD YOU CONTROL YOUR PET MONGOOSE?!”

Cary let out all his reserved breath in a quiet moan, and turned toward the commotion. “Now what.”

In the middle of an ever-gathering gaggle of gawkers, Kerry stood glaring at John Petrosky, who was nursing a quickly-purpling bruise on his jaw. Next to him Ida Mae Redmoon gaped at Kerry in bafflement. Kerry looked at her brother and shrugged. “He was getting gropey with her, and she told him to stop it, but he wouldn’t, so I socked him.”

John spat out, “Who asked you, anyway?”

“ _She_ would’ve, if she knew I was there.” Indeed, Ida Mae, who’d been taken under the wing of a couple of girl friends, sort of giggled in still-stunned approval.

“You need to,” John spoke to Cary, but shook a finger back at Kerry, “DO something about your little pit bull, Chowder-milk—”

“Oh SHUT your GOB already!” Kerry took another swing directly at John’s head, and the onlookers gasped. John swung back, fruitlessly, as he and everyone else well knew. A couple voices in the crowd started chanting, “FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!” 

“BREAK IT UP!” Mr. Hendrickson, Civics teacher, wrestling coach, and rather large man, pushed his way through the chaos and surveyed the scene. “What are you pulling, Petrosky?”

“SHE punched ME!” John pointed to where Kerry had just been, but no longer was, standing. “Wherever she is. It was that freaky little Injun girl—”

“Language, Petrosky.”

“Excuse me, I dunno where she went, but it’s _always_ her, she started it, I swear.” _Oh, and HE was just feeding the puppies._ Cary tried not to smile.

“How is it, every time a fight breaks out, you all insist on blaming this mysterious little girl who’s _never even there_?”

“Ask Chowd- Cary.” John pointed at him. “He knows, she’s like his slave or something.”

Mr. Hendrickson rolled his eyes and turned to Cary. “Loudermilk, you know anything about this?”

“I-I had nothing to do with it,” Cary replied honestly.

“I can vouch for him,” Hannah put in. He noticed, suddenly, that she was still holding his hand. “We were dancing over there when Johnny just started yelling.”

“I SWEAR TO GOD, she was here, she works for him or somethin’, I—”

“Can it.” Mr. Hendrickson dragged John off the dance floor and the crowd started milling again.

“Where _did_ she go?” Hannah asked under her breath.

“Home.” It was technically, in a metaphorical way, true.

Hannah gave him a side-eye. “You’re just covering for her, aren’t you.”

“Yes.” This was so accidentally literally true that he had to stop himself laughing outright.

Hannah shook her head. “I’m afraid I still don’t get your thing with her.”

“Well, we’re….” He sighed. “I don’t know.”

“Do not tell me she’s your conjoined twin again.”

“Ohhh-k-kay. My mother does have a different theory.” He winced, then spat out in a rush, “She’s a secondary personality I developed through the dual trauma of childhood bullying and my dad rejecting me for not being a properly Native-looking girl who somehow managed to manifest herself physically please do not— _t-tell_ anybody Mama is terrified they’ll take us away.”

_Who you calling “secondary”?_

Hannah shook her head. “…what?”

“She’s my conjoined twin who lives inside me.”

“Okay, then.” She drew these words out slowly.

“W-would you, w-want to dance again?”

“Not really.” Hannah frowned at a point somewhere above the dance floor, settling back with her arms crossed.

_I’ll dance with you._

“I don’t really want to, now, either.” He felt nauseous. He pulled the crumpled napkin he’d palmed earlier out of his sleeve and started to clean his glasses, just so he wouldn’t have to look at anything.

Hannah side-eyed him again, and repeated, “Oh, okay, then.” She slipped off to join another group of friends. He set in to wait for this experiment in socialization to finally be over.

Kerry could feel the dejected slump in Cary’s shoulders as they walked Hannah home, and it worried her. He was down on himself, and as far as she could tell, he hadn’t done anything wrong. _She_ thought he’d been very brave tonight, actually. She was proud of him. _You did good tonight, buddy_ , she told him.

He humphed. Then, to Hannah, he said, “Did…did you have a good time?”

“Well…yeah. It was a nice dance, and I enjoyed getting to know you better. You’re a really good dancer, and you’re interesting, and funny when you relax and let yourself be.” _She likes you, she doesn’t like me_ , Kerry said flatly. “I just don’t think I can go out with you if that girl-Kerry keeps tagging along.” _See?_ “It’s just…weird.” _Well I think her haircut is weird._ Cary tensed up, so she could tell he really wanted to yell at her, but he controlled himself. “Can’t you make her stay home when you go out?”

“No.” Because she was still staring at him doubtfully, he muttered, “she’s my conjoined twin who lives inside me.”

“That isn’t funny anymore.”

Cary could only shrug.

“I like you, Cary, and I’ll always be your friend, but we can’t be more than that if I have to share you with a bossy little girl.”

Kerry tutted indignantly, but Cary, staring at the ground, said, “Then I guess we can’t.”

“All right then.” Hannah opened her front door and gave him one last sad smile. “See you Monday, I guess.”

“I—I’m really sorry,” Cary called after her as she shut the door. He hung his head and turned away.

But Kerry kept staring, willing Hannah to come back out. There was a pit of something nasty rolling around in her stomach, and she didn’t like it. It was hard to admit, but she admitted it. “I ruined everything.”

“It’s all right. Better to get it out of the way at the onset. I can’t exactly stay with anyone who can’t accept _you_ , can I? It’s non-negotiable.”

But Kerry’s heart sank further. He’d meant that in a comforting way, but the truth was clear: when it came to romance, she would always be in his way.

After the Homecoming Dance, Cary decided it was time to tackle this socialization project his own way. He got permission to form an A/V club, which soon attracted as like-minded individuals as could possibly exist in their town, and _they_ actually appreciated his former toaster. He briefly did consider going out for cross-country, since he had to admit that running did invigorate the brain a bit, but decided the A/V club was as social as he could handle for now.

Kerry disagreed. She had to make up for ruining his very first date by finding him a second one, one who would accept him (and her) just the way he (they) was (were). In class she kept up a running evaluation of every fellow student, hoping to spark his interest in somebody. _Cynthia Swiftriver is smart. And pretty. And she said she liked your sweater the other day._

It annoyed Cary especially because he couldn’t respond easily while they were in class. He might grunt or mutter a word or two that could be mistaken for thinking out loud, but anything more he had to write down and stare at it so she could see the answer. “Cynthia likes Steve Morrison more than my sweater,” he wrote.

_Oh wait, I’ve got the best idea. BOYS!_

“What?” That one he murmured out loud.

_Some boys like other boys more than girls._

“I don’t,” he wrote.

_Oh but look at Jack Stanley. Look at the way his hair swoops. SWOOP! And his dimples. God he’s cute._

Cary glanced at Jack Stanley, and caught himself following that swoop of hair suddenly. Oh right. And that smile _was_ a little discombobulating. He really was seriously cute, and he wondered why he’d never thought that bef— “KERRY,” he wrote. “YOU’RE lusting over Jack right now, aren’t you.”

_Or AM I?_

Cary felt his face burning up. “You’re only 10, how do you—”

 _I am NOT ten!_ she protested before he could finish writing.

“He’s 17.”

_YOU’RE just scared to try._

“I’m not. I just don’t want to. And we’re supposed to be listening to the history lecture.”

_You do that then. I’M going to gaze at Jack._

Cary pointedly stared as far from Jack as possible for the rest of class.

As soon as they rounded a corner outside school where she was reasonably certain no one could see, Kerry slipped out and looked for Jack Stanley among the throng. “There he is, headed up Aspen Road.” She tugged on Cary’s sleeve. “Come on, let’s go talk to him.”

“Who are—oh.” Cary rolled his eyes and kept walking toward home. “You’re still on about that?”

“ _Yeah_ , because we both agree he’s super cute, right?”

“Now that _you’re_ not influencing my hormones, I’ve returned to feeling indifferent towards him. And everyone else you’ve suggested, for that matter.”

“Oh, just _think_ about it. A different perspective on romance could be just what you need to rekindle your broken heart.” She was quoting things she’d heard the girls at school say, and was not entirely sure she understood them, but if it stopped him being so stubborn, good.

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“You need to find _somebody_ though, so you can move on from Hannah, so you’re not pining over what’s lost!”

“I don’t need to _move on_ from Hannah when I was barely _there_ to begin with. I am perfectly content to exchange the occasional smile with her. Dating was a…fleeting fancy. An experiment we discovered didn’t work.”

“You’re not supposed to _give up_ when the experiment fails, you’re supposed to reevaluate your methods and try—”

“Kerry, _enough_.” He stopped, and turned toward her. “I don’t want to date _anyone_. Honest. I’m not pining over Hannah or Jack or _anybody_ , and I don’t need any help _finding_ someone to pine over.”

“But,” she said sadly, “what about the observation tower, kissing that special someone beneath the stars?”

Cary shrugged. “It’s just not that important to me. Not enough to be worth the hassle and the…” he eyed her somewhat guiltily “…the awkwardness.”

“You shouldn’t have to end up lonely just because _I’m_ in the way.”

“You’re not… KERRY!” His face suddenly softened, and his mouth twitched as he looked at her. “I haven’t been _lonely_ for the past seven years.”

“Oh.” His meaning sunk in. “Me neither.”

“Funny how that works out.” He smirked and rustled her hair.

She chopped his hand away. “Except for those times someone can’t drag his attention away from his experiments, of course.”

“Well, tonight isn’t one of those times, little sister. Tonight we will do whatever _you_ want—rocketry, poker, ballet. I won’t argue. What’ll it be?”

“I’m not your little sister.” She gave him a wicked grin. “Two-man rugby. No mercy. Beat ya home.”

“Oh you can’t be serious.” He watched her run off for a moment, then, gamely, jogged after.


End file.
